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some reminiscences-第18部分

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said after a moment of silence was:







〃Read the page aloud。〃







Luckily the page lying before me was not overblotted with



erasures and corrections; and my father's handwriting was



otherwise extremely legible。 When I got to the end he nodded and



I flew out of doors thinking myself lucky to have escaped reproof



for that piece of impulsive audacity。  I have tried to discover



since the reason of this mildness; and I imagine that all unknown



to myself I had earned; in my father's mind; the right to some



latitude in my relations with his writing…table。  It was only a



month before; or perhaps it was only a week before; that I had



read to him aloud from beginning to end; and to his perfect



satisfaction; as he lay on his bed; not being very well at the



time; the proofs of his translation of Victor Hugo's 〃Toilers of



the Sea。〃  Such was my title to consideration; I believe; and



also my first introduction to the sea in literature。  If I do not



remember where; how and when I learned to read; I am not likely



to forget the process of being trained in the art of reading



aloud。  My poor father; an admirable reader himself; was the most



exacting of masters。  I reflect proudly that I must have read



that page of 〃Two Gentlemen of Verona〃 tolerably well at the age



of eight。  The next time I met them was in a 5s。 one…volume



edition of the dramatic works of William Shakespeare; read in



Falmouth; at odd moments of the day; to the noisy accompaniment



of caulkers' mallets driving oakum into the deck…seams of a ship



in dry dock。 We had run in; in a sinking condition and with the



crew refusing duty after a month of weary battling with the gales



of the North Atlantic。  Books are an integral part of one's life



and my Shakespearean associations are with that first year of our



bereavement; the last I spent with my father in exile (he sent me



away to Poland to my mother's brother directly he could brace



himself up for the separation); and with the year of hard gales;



the year in which I came nearest to death at sea; first by water



and then by fire。







Those things I remember; but what I was reading the day before my



writing life began I have forgotten。  I have only a vague notion



that it might have been one of Trollope's political novels。  And



I remember; too; the character of the day。  It was an autumn day



with an opaline atmosphere; a veiled; semi…opaque; lustrous day;



with fiery points and flashes of red sunlight on the roofs and



windows opposite; while the trees of the square with all their



leaves gone were like tracings of indian ink on a sheet of tissue



paper。  It was one of those London days that have the charm of



mysterious amenity; of fascinating softness。  The effect of



opaline mist was often repeated at Bessborough Gardens on account



of the nearness to the river。







There is no reason why I should remember that effect more on that



day than on any other day; except that I stood for a long time



looking out of the window after the landlady's daughter was gone



with her spoil of cups and saucers。  I heard her put the tray



down in the passage and finally shut the door; and still I



remained smoking with my back to the room。  It is very clear that



I was in no haste to take the plunge into my writing life; if as



plunge this first attempt may be described。  My whole being was



steeped deep in the indolence of a sailor away from the sea; the



scene of never…ending labour and of unceasing duty。  For utter



surrender to indolence you cannot beat a sailor ashore when that



mood is on him; the mood of absolute irresponsibility tasted to



the full。  It seems to me that I thought of nothing whatever; but



this is an impression which is hardly to be believed at this



distance of years。  What I am certain of is; that I was very far



from thinking of writing a story; though it is possible and even



likely that I was thinking of the man Almayer。







I had seen him for the first time some four years before from the



bridge of a steamer moored to a rickety little wharf forty miles



up; more or less; a Bornean river。  It was very early morning and



a slight mist; an opaline mist as in Bessborough Gardens only



without the fiery flicks on roof and chimney…pot from the rays of



the red London sun; promised to turn presently into a woolly fog。



Barring a small dug…out canoe on the river there was nothing



moving within sight。  I had just come up yawning from my cabin。



The serang and the Malay crew were overhauling the cargo chains



and trying the winches; their voices sounded subdued on the deck



below and their movements were languid。  That tropical daybreak



was chilly。  The Malay quartermaster; coming up to get something



from the lockers on the bridge; shivered visibly。  The forests



above and below and on the opposite bank looked black and dank;



wet dripped from the rigging upon the tightly stretched deck



awnings; and it was in the middle of a shuddering yawn that I



caught sight of Almayer。  He was moving across a patch of burnt



grass; a blurred shadowy shape with the blurred bulk of a house



behind him; a low house of mats; bamboos and palm…leaves with a



high…pitched roof of grass。







He stepped upon the jetty。  He was clad simply in flapping



pyjamas of cretonne pattern (enormous flowers with yellow petals



on a disagreeable blue ground) and a thin cotton singlet with



short sleeves。  His arms; bare to the elbow; were crossed on his



chest。  His black hair looked as if it had not been cut for a



very long time and a curly wisp of it strayed across his



forehead。  I had heard of him at Singapore; I had heard of him on



board; I had heard of him early in the morning and late at night;



I had heard of him at tiffin and at dinner; I had heard of him in



a place called Pulo Laut from a half…caste gentleman there; who



described himself as the manager of a coal…mine; which sounded



civilised and progressive till you heard that the mine could not



be worked at present because it was haunted by some particulary



atrocious ghosts。  I had heard of him in a place called Dongola;



in the Island of Celebes; when the Rajah of that little…known



seaport (you can get no anchorage there in less than fifteen



fathom; which is extremely inconvenient) came on board in a



friendly way with only two attendants; and drank bottle after



bottle of soda…water on the after…skylight with my good friend



and commander; Captain C。  At least I heard his name distinctly



pronounced several times in a lot of talk in Malay language。  Oh



yes; I heard it quite distinctlyAlmayer; Almayerand saw



Captain C smile while the fat dingy Rajah laughed audibly。  To



hear a Malay Rajah laugh outright is a rare experience I can



assure you。  And I overhead more of Almayer's name amongst our



deck passengers (mostly wandering traders of good repute) as they



sat all over the shipeach man fenced round with bundles and



boxeson mats; on pillows; on quilts; on billets of wood;



conversing of Island affairs。  Upon my word; I heard the mutter



of Almayer's name faintly at midnight; while making my way aft



from the bridge to look at the patent taffrail…log tinkling its



quarter…miles in the great silence of the sea。  I don't mean to



say that our passengers dreamed aloud of Almayer; but it is



indubitable that two of them at least; who could not sleep



apparently and were trying to charm away the trouble of insomnia



by a little whispered talk at that ghostly hour; were referring



in some way or other to Almayer。  It was really impossible on



board that ship to get away definitely from Almayer; and a very



small pony tied up forward and whisking its tail inside the



galley; to the great embarrassment of our Chinaman cook; was



destined for Almayer。  What he wanted with a pony goodness only



knows; since I am perfectly certain he could not ride it; but



here you have the man; ambitious; aiming at the grandiose;



importing a pony; whereas in the whole settlement at which he



used to shake daily his impotent fist; there was only one path



that was practicable for a pony:  a quarter of a mile at most;



hedged in by hundreds of square leagues of virgin forest。  But



who knows?  The importation of that Bali Pony might have been



part of some deep scheme; of some diplomatic plan; of some



hopeful intrigue。  With Almayer one could never tell。  He



governed his conduct by considerations removed from the obvious;



by incredible assumptions; which rendered 
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